


By any other name

by DarkShadeless



Series: SWTOR - collection [22]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: (his Lord knows this and loves him), Crack, Feelings, Gen, Introspection, Mentions of Slavery, Self Confidence Issues, Talos is a good and loyal minion, a little bit of, accidental bullying, and, oops i star warsed again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Has anyone ever told you that you sound like a damn dictionary?
Relationships: Male Sith Inquisitor & Talos Drellik
Series: SWTOR - collection [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/906084
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	By any other name

**Author's Note:**

> ... I may have made myself cry again. That was NOT the plan.

"In conclusion, the layout of the temple structures suggests a ritual grid of so far unknown purpose. My head scholars and I have come to the accord that its existence, while to be expected, is troubling and begs further study," Darth Nox brings his report to a close with sweeping gesture, “as expediency allows.”

Sienn Rah blinks once, twice before she realizes it’s finally _over_. Stars, she almost fell asleep with her eyes open in a debriefing with _Sith_.

At least Marr’s grouchy rumble goes a ways to chase the sluggishness from her limbs. “We must seize more ground as quickly as possible.”

“I realize that.” Her fellow twi’lek inclines his head regally. A twi’lek, bossing around Imperials. It boggles the mind. “We would do well not to ignore the potential factors at play here, however. I’m sure there is method to Revan’s madness in the choosing of the ruins his people occupy. Knowledge is power.”

Oh gods. Here they go again.

Sienn can _feel_ the weight of Marr’s displeasure. She always figured that was bantha poodoo. Turns out it _isn’t_ and she really could have lived without that knowledge. Sith are kriffing unsettling.

“ _Fine_. Do as you will but know that I will not delay the advance of our troops for anything short of mortal danger.”

“As you say.” She could swear the Dark Lord (who calls themselves something like that unironically?) almost smiles. About _what_ Sienn has no idea but his lekku broadcast his amusement with a gentle slope that looks completely out of place on the imposing man. Or any Imp. “If there are no further questions?”

“… has anyone ever told you that you sound like a damn dictionary?”

Dead. Silence. Falls.

Sienn’s still trying to get her brain back online after what feels like an hour-long lecture on archaeology and murderous architecture (she’s here to shoot things, alright) so it takes her a moment to realize that that came out of her own mouth.

The Imps in attendance stare at her as if she has lost her mind. So, uh, does Master Shan actually and isn’t that embarrassing? This is what happens when you trap your command staff in a meeting fit to melt their brain right out of their head.

Behind Nox' back Theron slaps a hand over his mouth, presumably because he’s losing the fight against the hysterical giggle that is trying to claw its way up Sienn’s throat.

Nox' face is like stone.

His purple eyes bore into hers until she can’t quite keep her own lekku from twisting in discomfort. Captain of Havoc Squad or not, she’s sorely tempted to sink into her seat and disappear when he finally proceeds to ignore her as if she doesn’t exist and intones at their fearless leaders, flat as a brick of ration bars, “You have my report.”

With that their head archaeologist turns on his heel and sweeps out in a twirl of purple robes and offence.

So… that went well. She’s _not_ telling Jorgan about this.

* * *

When Talos takes the time to wander past their Lords domain that evening he does _not_ expect it to look even more like an evil lair than it usually does. Most of the stations are empty and dark, the only light the holo-table in the center of the tent-like structure. One of the interns has set its output to green again, it looks like.

It gives the whole room an air like a swamp sorceress’ curio cabinet. The artefacts Lord Nox’ loyal subjects have unearthed and promptly misused for paperweights where they didn’t have to lock them up in containment don’t exactly help relieve that impression.

Talos feels pressed to click his tongue. Perhaps he should review that lecture on proper procedure again…

Nox himself is the only readily visible occupant remaining, doused in the glow of the hologram he is manipulating. He’s muttering angrily to himself.

No wonder the less hard-wearing have deserted him. A Sith in a snit is not for the faint of heart.

“Is something the matter, your lordship?” He doesn’t raise his voice but quiet though the question is, it carries in the roiling darkness.

Nox pauses in his diatribe, caught. The ensuing silence does little more than give testament to his grumbling. “I have no idea why you would ask me that.”

“Of course not, my Lord.” Talos picks his way through the poorly lit organized chaos carefully. At least by din of their work their little magpies in residence here had to leave enough space to manoeuvre their hover-pads. Small mercies. This treasure trove had _better_ be catalogued correctly.

Nox’ presence is more of a rolling cloud than usual and is hardly lightened by his approach. “What is it?”

“Nothing in particular, my Lord.” Well, nothing work related at least. “I simply thought I might look in on you.”

At that the twi’lek finally pushes himself upright. His back gives a rather worrying crack when he stretches it out. Talos lets him have a moment to compose himself and averts his attention toward their ever growing map of Yavin 4’s ruins.

A marvel, this entire moon. It is a privilege to be here.

The table has been keyed to a new sublayer, detailing potential glyphs and ritual circles the temples they have encountered so far could, potentially, be a part of. It seems their Lord has been hard at work.

Fascinating…

Talos will admit to perhaps a little more than his fair share of professional curiosity and passion for his chosen field. It's not until a chuckle jars him from his reverie that he realizes he is not quite sure how much of his time has gone to studying the clean lines of his Lord’s diagrams. The willpower it takes to tear his eyes away is not inconsiderable but at least Nox is smiling faintly when he manages it.

“My apologies,” is what he says, as protocol demands. His attention should always be with his Lord, after all. Talos’ own crooked smile says something else.

“It’s alright. Beautiful, isn’t it?” The soft awe Nox shows few things but the pursuit of knowledge is something Talos can understand all too well. It is something they share, in their own way.

“It is.” He traces the potential curves and points, extrapolated from what they _know_ to what they suspect, and hums to himself. “Your predictions are quite dire, my Lord.”

“Quite. Do you think I am miscalculating?”

From another Sith the question alone might have been a threat but as long as Talos has known their master he has not let his pride stand in the way of learning. Still… “No.” He is not often wrong.

Nox makes a face. “I had half hoped you would tell me I’ve let my temper get to myself and wasted my whole afternoon on petty scribbles.”

‘Petty’ is not what Talos would make of an array fit to channel the life of a whole planet, or moon. Then again, the moon in question does contain certain vexing elements. Talos chances a sideways look at his lord and master. “I hear our allies forgot their manners again.”

The frown their discussion had chased off Nox’ features returns, in force. It’s dark enough to leech the warmth from Talos’ bones. Oh dear. “My Lord?”

His master dismisses his concern with a wave of his hand but doesn’t quite manage to banish the evidence of his displeasure. “It’s nothing.”

Talos weighs his options. “Is it?”

Perhaps it is impudent to be this familiar with a Darth but he does have the advantage of years in personal service. Nox will let him get away with a few breaches in courtesy for the sake of concern. The certainty of this is a strangely pleasant yet occasionally uncomfortable weight but not one Talos minds shouldering.

Today his discomfort outweighs private satisfaction, though. Where his question should have garnered him censure it lifts the more dire shadows off his Lord’s face and leaves him staring unseeingly at his latest creation. It seems he’s in a queer mood tonight.

Eventually, Lord Nox says slowly, “I suppose I did not think it was that obvious.”

“I’m sorry, my Lord?”

Talos confusion makes his mouth quirk into a smile that is as fleeting as it is… strange. For all that the insult given his Lord today seems to have vexed him he isn’t… angry. Lord Nox is rarely loud in his ire but Talos has learned to spot it well.

He would almost call the thread of emotion in his voice melancholy. That’s not right either but it’s the closest word he can find.

“That I learned proper diction from books, Talos.”

Talos takes a deep, slow breath.

Yes, his Lord has these moods, rarely, privately. Times when he will mention what he used to be, before he became Sith. This look will come over him, not quite sad, or tinted with a helpless rage that sits so ill on a Sith, especially one of his power and station.

Can you grieve for yourself? For something you would never wish to be returned to?

Sometimes Talos wonders if that is what it is he is doing. He doubts he could ever truly understand, even if Nox were to explain what moves him in these moments. So he does what he can do: He averts his eyes when his Lord reaches up absentmindedly and brushes the tips of his fingers over his armoured throat, feeling for a collar he has been free of for years.

He sees quite enough of those scars in the medical bay.

“It isn’t.” The words are rough on Talos tongue, unrefined and blunt but they are all he can think to say.

Nox pauses. After a moment’s hesitation he blinks himself awake from wherever he went and gives Talos a questioning look that makes him fall back more firmly on the comfortable familiarity of standing at attention. His Lord’s trust is a heavy weight indeed. “I wouldn’t know if you hadn’t told me.”

When his Lord smiles this time, it seems to chase a little of what is weighing on him away more firmly. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“It’s the truth.” And what else could it be?

But Talos watches Lord Nox take his words with more than a grain of salt and ponders, not for the first time, if with all the critics he has faced over the years their master himself is the one he has yet to convince that he is in his rightful place.


End file.
